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I'd be living in a place where mom were alive.
Where Anselina and Anton were alive.
I'd be living in a land where dreams come true.
Where recognition comes our way.I wouldn't have to weep all alone in my room.
I'll have people to share my sorrow.
I wouldn't be asking God to let me be His drummer girl.
I would already be. And a good one, too.
I wouldn't be despondent and lose all my energy.
I'd be filled with it every day of my life.

Night after night I've been praying for Him to give me a chance. Right now, the situation is such : the person who used to hear me play the drums and understand what my heart wanted to say - mom - is gone. I'm just trying to beat my heart out, on my own, with absolutely no one to guide me, but most often, I think it to no avail. Most of the time, I do it alone. Among all the drummer friends I know - those around me and those in the Sunset Band, I'm nothing but a castaway. No one even bothers to hear me. Perhaps the only person hearing me right now is God. But even so, every day seems so silent. Nothing seems to progress. I yearn for someone - an angel, perhaps - to take me by the hand and lift me up, and help me be the person I truly want to be - the Lord's drummer girl.

Now, I wanted to address this to someone whom I know well :

Salut, fellow Sunset Band member.

One factor which made you take a liking to me was my talent. Mom saw, in January, how you played the drums (while at that time, Cyril wasn't there) and she knew how much I wanted to play. She took up my cause while she was still around and asked you to give me a chance. It was over time that Raymund - the then leader - saw me play, and no doubt, he was impressed. But if only he stayed long enough to let me play for mass and get progressively better...

I guess no one else would've seen me play. Apart from both of you. And perhaps a few people at the back. That's all.

Mom got me my drums in April, and I'm indebted to her. She told me, maybe two weeks later, that she'd get me a signed pair of Vic Firths. Just like Cyril's.

Then mom got snatched away from me, and now I have no one to fight for my cause. No one. I have no one to caress me and tell me that I will make it there. Does dad care about my passion ? I wonder. From the look of it, not a bit. I remember one day in the car (I'm not sure if that time mom was still in hospital) he told me he was amazed by Cyril's playing. And I said in reply, "I wish someday I could play like this."

Did he hear me ? No, he didn't even bother. My reply just ended in silence.

And you ? You were, in a few instances, taught by Cyril, and now you're backing out and saying that you don't wanna play ! Do you know how hurtful this is to me ? Had I been in your shoes, I'd have made full use of what he taught me. And I'd have risen the ranks. Because you know full well that I have a passion for the drums. Now I'm being permanently deprived of a chance to play, Cyril, for not seeing me, thinks I can't do it ; Dad doesn't even come back home regularly enough for me to be there for practice, and you just back out. I don't even know if when I come back, Sharm will keep her part of the deal which we made about two weeks after mom's death and give me a drum part. And I have no one to turn around and tell them, "Give her a chance, for goodness' sake !"

I know. Chances are always given to everyone else. Not to me. Never to me. Even after I've prayed so hard for so long, even after I've been weeping alone in my bed. I guess I've nothing to hope for anymore.